


The Dark Lord's Elf

by JanuaryGrey (Jan3693)



Series: Someone We Used to Know [3]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: AU, Gen, Implied/Referenced Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Not A Stand-Alone Fic, Regulus Black Lives, Regulus and Kreacher friendship, Regulus has unhealthy coping mechanisms, Walburga Black's A+ Parenting, check the series info if you're interested
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-30
Updated: 2020-03-30
Packaged: 2021-02-28 18:34:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,039
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23401573
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jan3693/pseuds/JanuaryGrey
Summary: A short side fic explaining why/how Regulus is still alive in the fic in this series, Someone We Used to Know.
Relationships: Regulus Black & Kreacher
Series: Someone We Used to Know [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1557685
Comments: 3
Kudos: 25





	The Dark Lord's Elf

**Author's Note:**

> This is a little side scene from the main fic in this series Someone We Used to Know, an AU that follows what happens when Sirius is expelled from Hogwarts following the Whomping Willow Prank on Snape. This tiny fic won't make much sense if you don't at least read the first few chapters of the main fic. Check out the Series info for links and more info.

Someone is screaming in 12 Grimmauld Place. It startles Regulus awake. His hangover arrives approximately two seconds later.

Mouth dry, head pounding, Regulus tumbles out of bed and throws a dressing gown on over his pajamas. He recognizes this particular screech. Even if he feels like he’s about to vomit, Regulus heeds his mother’s call.

Only it’s not him she’s calling for.

“Kreacher!” Walburga yells. She stands in the middle of the drawing room, dressed impeccably for the day, as though she were going to host an important luncheon or attend tea with the Minister. Regulus knows she isn’t likely to even leave the house though. She rarely steps foot outside Grimmauld Place since his father’s death.

“Mother, what’s wrong?” Regulus asks from the doorway. He’s not slurring his words, which he counts as a victory. 

“That insufferable elf! That lazy, vile beast! Where is he? He’s not answering my summons!” Walburga says. Her wand is in her hand, and Regulus grimaces at the sight of it. He and Kreacher have both been on the wrong end of that wand before. 

Walburga stopped hitting or cursing Regulus after he took the Dark Mark. _“You’re a man now,”_ She told him. _“A true scion of the House of Black.”_

She still yelled though, and she still hurt Kreacher whenever the whim took her, or forced him to hurt himself.

“Mother, Kreacher isn’t here,” Regulus reminds her, as gentle as possible. “You sent him to stay with Narcissa and help with the baby. You told him to stay with her until Lucius manages to get a new elf, or they hire a nanny.”

For a moment, Walburga just frowns. The thunderous look on her face says she wants to argue with him. Instead, she settles for disparaging Lucius Malfoy, who isn’t there to defend himself.

“That man! I always said your cousin could have done better!” Walburga says with a huff. “He should have gotten a replacement elf long before now. He should have gotten _two_ considering Narcissa’s condition. I don’t know why he just _gave_ away their old one in the first place.”  
_  
Because the Dark Lord asked, and Lucius is as loyal a servant as any house elf._ Regulus doesn’t say the words out loud. His mother doesn’t have the mark. She doesn’t need to know about any of that. 

She certainly doesn’t need to know that when the Dark Lord asked his followers to borrow a house elf, his red eyes had initially settled on Regulus. 

It was a test, Regulus is sure of it. One he very clearly failed. 

He can still remember the weight of those terrible eyes on him. He’d kept his gaze focused on the floor, terrified that even his long practiced occlumency wouldn’t be enough to hide his treacherous doubts from the Dark Lord. 

Perhaps if Regulus hadn’t already had so many doubts, if he hadn’t had Potter’s mirror hidden in the bottom of his old school trunk “just in case,” maybe he would have done it. Maybe he would have sent Kreacher to assist the Dark Lord, hoping to bring favor to himself and his family.

The doubts were there though, planted by Potter and the mystery of Sirius’s disappearance. 

“Maybe it is for the best,” Walburga grumbles, collapsing heavily onto her divan and pointedly eying the liquor cabinet against the far wall. Regulus takes the hint and does Kreacher’s usual duties. It’s barely noon, but Regulus can’t exactly judge his mother for her day drinking.

“I remember that Malfoy elf,” Walburga continues as Regulus pulls out her favorite cognac. “It was a strange thing. Nervous, jumpy, but the little beast gave Lucius lip more than once. I think his orders were too lax.” 

She clucks her tongue disapprovingly as Regulus finishes with her drink. He eyes the decanter thoughtfully, then takes a long swallow directly from it. Hopefully his mother isn’t watching. She’s stingy with her favorite vintages.

Regulus remembers the Malfoys’ elf too. His mother is right, he was a strange creature, even for a house elf. He’d seemed eager enough to serve when Regulus had smiled and thanked him for things though. Regulus struggled to remember the elf’s name. He’d asked for it at dinner one time. Something with a D, he was sure…Dorin…Dobbin…Dobby…yes, that was it. He’s fairly sure of it.

He shudders at the memory of those enormous eyes and the way the elf’s ears had twitched happily when Regulus had thanked him for refreshing his tea. 

His mother hadn’t approved of that. She’s never approved of how he treats house elves. To this day she insists that, when Kreacher gets too old to serve, it will be Regulus who takes his head to mount on the wall. 

Kreacher loves the idea too, but it terrifies Regulus.

He knows he has more affection for Kreacher than is proper. It’s wrong that he sees the elf as almost as much of a friend as he is a servant. Perhaps that’s why the Dark Lord looked to him first, to rid him of this foolish attachment.

All Regulus knows is that he’s thankful he didn’t offer Kreacher’s service to the Dark Lord.

Lucius had stepped up instead, eagerly offering up his own odd elf. The Dark Lord had smiled and praised him, and Lucius had preened like one of his white peacocks.

His elf never came home.

The Dark Lord never offered an explanation, or apologies, and Lucius had known better than to ask. 

Heaving a sigh, Regulus takes another swallow of cognac, hoping to chase off his hangover for a little while longer. Then he pastes on a smile and takes his mother her drink. 

“Don’t worry, Mother. I’m sure Kreacher will be home soon,” he says. “Until then, I’ll help you with anything you need.”

She mutters something about the indignity of her son acting like an elf, but she doesn’t refuse his offer, or the drink.

Regulus excuses himself from the room after that, hoping to head back up to bed. He shudders as he passes by the house elf heads mounted on the wall, dreading the day Kreacher’s head will join them, and wondering what exactly became of the Malfoy elf.


End file.
